No One Escapes Cidhna Mine
by CrescentSapphire
Summary: She felt a sick, swooping sensation. Running from Nepo's House, one thought persisted: Eltrys needed to be informed just how far the Forsworn Conspiracy spread. She burst through the doors of the Shrine, and skidded to a stop. Markarth Guards surrounded Eltrys' body. "You should have left well enough alone…"
1. Chapter 1

No One Escapes Cidhna Mine

Summary: She felt a sick, swooping sensation. Running from Nepo's House, one thought persisted: Eltrys needed to be informed just how far the Forsworn Conspiracy spread. She burst through the doors of the Shrine, and skidded to a stop. Markarth Guards surrounded Eltrys' body. "You should have left well enough alone…"

Rating: T, for violence

Status: In Progress

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Skyrim franchise. This story is written purely for enjoyment. I am neither endorsed, approved, or sponsored for this.

.

.

Citizens of Markarth heard shouts and the clash of metal emanate from the Shrine of Talos. Women started shunting their children inside. Abruptly, an almighty clang reverberated through the silver town. The shrine doors burst open to reveal a lithe woman, clad in black armor, pelting away from a score of Guards. She weaved her way down to the marketplace, her eyes desperately calling for help. Citizens knew to avert their gaze- to show even accidental sympathy, meant death. Things are done a certain way in Markarth. It's a shame this one had to learn the hard way. The wave of guards were evidence enough that she didn't leave well enough alone. It was sad, but necessary. Best not get involved. Everyone moved to give the guards an easier path, the lone figure in black made obvious by her desperate escape.

Shock and disgust momentarily filled the fugitive, seeing how well maintained these sheep were. Immediately after she caught the sight of the city gates, and resolve filled her- if she could just pelt past, she'd be free of this damnable- her lungs burning- guards, -god the stitch in her side would kill her- she put on a burst of speed, and-

Burst through the doors!

She will make it, and tell everyone- the Greybeards, the Companions, hell, even Brnjolf, if only for the shock factor-

Suddenly, thoughts of the Ragged Flagon died.

As she passed the stables, her legs swiftly gave out. No. No. She refused to believe that-

Her exit to freedom was blocked by a score of Markarth City Watch.

She had been herded. Sheep indeed.

The guards pursing her closed off any retreat, and together they formed a solid circle of hostile enemy.

The Captain smirked, and broke from the group. He casually strolled to the figure panting on the ground. Coming to a stop in front of her, he put a hand on the hilt of his sword, and remarked,

"You got far. I admit it. But you won't beat all of us. Will you surrender and come quietly to the Mine? Or, will you die at my feet?"

Members of the defense line saw the figure, huddled on the ground, raise a _look_- she was beaten, not broken.

The Captain motioned for two to come forward, and grab her arms.

She watched them approach, controlling her breathing so they won't hear pathetic panting. She'd be damned if she would show weakness to this rabble. She had to remember who she was. Remember her code-

They dragged her roughly to her feet- she shrugged angrily at their touch- the captain drew his weapon halfway out of the sheath- but no, She just wanted to stand on her own.

The two guards almost seemed as though they were a polite escort, for she held herself like a queen. Her legs steady, her breathing regular, she met the Captain's gaze.

_She would not give him the satisfaction of her defeat. No one knew her here, and soon enough one of her friends will notice her absence. For now she must bide her time. Keep her mind sharp and her body healthy. Remember everything and everyone. Freedom is an illusion. Be patient for tomorrow…_

The Captain assessed her. She has spirit, true, but Cidhna Mine has broken stronger characters than hers. He nodded once. A dismissal.

"To the Mine."

.

.

Honestly this quest always was one of my favorites. Intrigue! Deception! Hard labor! Ah, but that's for later. I also wondered, with all the titles and duties one gets in Skyrim (y'know, as Dragonborn, Harbinger, Thane of et al., Guild master, Nightingale, ArchMage, Listener, etc. etc….daedric champions…) did anyone miss her presence? Honestly? So, with a hint of incredulity, this story was spawned. Multi-chaptered. Reviews are welcome.

Hope all is well,

CrSa


	2. Chapter 2: I Remember

Rating: T, for violence

Status: In Progress

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Elder Scrolls Franchise. This story is written purely for enjoyment. I am neither endorsed, approved, or sponsored for this.

Special Mention to: lioness84, thank you for the review!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: I Remember<strong>

.

.

.

_Breathe In. Breathe Out._

They took everything she had. Shoved her into an open cavern and threw ragged clothes at her. Stoically she dressed in front of the leering guards, being sure her face showed no emotion.

_Be strong. Don't give them an inch._

She felt a moment of amusement as they sorted through her possessions: thieves guild armor? A Dragonblade? And look at these nice valuables… _I guess Vex will have to wait a bit until I can complete that Shill job…_

As the guards surrounded her, pushing her to the prisoners' entry, she made careful note of each one who pressed and taunted. _I will get you back for every insult you throw at me_. That was the promise she made to herself. Head held high, they left her standing in front of an orc, who introduced herself as Urgzoga gra-Shugurz. An overseer, she deducted, based on the armor. Orcs are a proud race, so she didn't snark back at her after the introductory spiel. _No reason to make enemies. Well, any __more__ enemies…_

"What do they call you, prisoner?"

She met Urgzoga's sharp gaze, "Aerin. I am called Aerin."

Urgzoga nodded and made a note, then gestured for her to step closer. _Don't show _fear. Ah, but she was only cutting the bindings that hobbled her legs and arms together.

Massaging her wrists, Aerin stepped through the opened the cell door.

_Don't steal her key, don't cause a fuss, keep sharp and silent._

The cell door creaked shut, and she got a good look at Cidhna Mine.

The smell of dry earth was much more prominent, and the loose dirt stung her eyes. Making her way down the wooden ramp, she noticed that, although smaller than some, Cidhna Mine was definitely divided into certain sections. The main chamber held a continuously roaring fire, which she supposed she was grateful for. Spend enough times in enough caves, and one learns quickly how the stone leaches warmth away. A great hulking Orc stood guard at another cell door…_ is he one of the overseers? Guarding a punishment area perhaps?..._ Two rough-hewed corridors branched in opposing directions from the central caverns. The dull, clinking sound of pickaxes seemed never-ending, echoing through the main chamber. She didn't hear any harsh commands or whippings, so perhaps… _I need answers_…

What she assumed was a dirty heap of old rags suddenly stood up and called out to her.

"Hail. I am called Uraccen. Come sit by the fire."

Aerin assessed him. He seemed tired, filthy, and weak. _But anyone is dangerous when fueled by desperation…_Yet he had a sardonic smile on his lips, as he allowed her to take her measure of him. He waited patiently until the newcomer sat down a safe distance from him, then spoke again.

"Don't see many female nords around here. What on earth did you do to get thrown into hell missie?"

Her sharp gold eyes filled with anger, but her fierce expression only made him chuckle,

"Oh, we all have stories here, no need to get angry dearie, or else you'll be angry forever, and that takes way too much energy!"

Aerin calmed a bit at his nonchalance, and decided to get some answers, "Where are the guards?"

"Oh, they come in once a week to haul out the bodies and grab the ore we dug up. That's the only time we get food too, and if we don't dig enough ore, we don't get any food."

He chuckled at the thought. _This man is not well. _

"Then who's that over there?" She cast a surreptitious glance at the Orc.

"Who? Oh, him. We call him Borkul the Beast. He's big, even for an orc. I heard he ripped a man's arm off and beat him to death with it. He's old fashioned like that." Uraccen chuckled to himself.

"Is he Madanach's guard?"

"Oh! If you're asking about Madanach, then you must be the new lifer! What did you do?"

He seemed eager for story time. Aerin coughed some dirt out her throat, and remembered.

.

.

(Aerin's point of view)

It was my first time in the Reach. It seemed like a pretty routine place, that is until I see a murder occur in the marketplace. Such a violent commotion was hard to ignore as I stepped through the gates and saw a miner stab a lady who only wanted some jewelry. As the guards subdued him, the miner's last shout was "The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!"

As the grisly tableau wraps up, man approaches, asking if I saw anything. He calls himself Eltrys, and says I dropped a note, then runs away before I can say anything. Bemused, I open it to read,

"Meet me at the Shrine of Talos."

Short and sweet. Being here on Thieves Guild business, I resolve to finish up a couple of jobs before getting involved in anything crazy. I remember being only amused as I decided to go ahead and meet this crackpot. I thought it would make a good story to tell….

Once I finally find the Shrine, the man- Eltrys, I remind myself- gives me a history lesson about the Reach.

_The Reachmen led an uprising in Markarth when the Empire was at war with the Alderi Dominion. The Reachmen were triumphant, ruling until the Great War ended. Soon after, the need to control the Reach became more important, so the Empire accepted Ulfric's plan to lead a Nord militia and reclaim the hold, in exchange for free worship of Talos in Markarth. Ulfric was cruel in his execution, cutting down anyone suspected of being involved in the rebellion. Even the king of the Reach, Madanach, was captured._

_The Reachmen splintered into two groups: neutral, and extremists. The extremists fled to the hills, vowing revenge not only on Ulfric's men, but also any foreigners, and became known as the Forsworn._

As I digest this dramatic tale, he seems to come to a decision, and says that he needs help. I groan internally, helping others- no thanks! He's persistent though, I give him that.

Eltrys' personal interest in this political upheaval stemmed from his father's murder. His father was a mine owner in the Reach, and was killed during a Forsworn attack. After telling me this he pleas,

"You're a tough outsider! I know you can find the truth!"

I scoff, and prepare to leave. This is none of my business.

Then he says the magic words,

"I'll pay for any information you bring me."

Done.

A good first step is to figure out who that poor murdered lady was. Eltrys points me to the only inn in town: The Silver-Blood Inn. After crossing Kleppr's palm with coin, I get a key to this… Margaret's room. The only thing of substance inside seemed to be her journal. I flip through it and- Whoa, she's an Imperial spy? That must be worth something to Eltrys. I head outside, only to be cautioned by some Markarth guards, telling me to stay out of it.

Interesting….

I tell him about the encounter, but Eltrys, instead of shrugging it off as I had, only looked scared and tells me to be careful. Apparently fear runs deep in this town. We agree that I need to visit Margaret's target: Thonar. Eltrys shows me where he can be found after a nice payment.

My head is buzzing from what I've read in Margaret's journal. General Tullius wanted Margaret to get the deed to Cidhna Mine from the Silver-Bloods, so the Stormcloaks couldn't get access to the silver. Well, the Forsworn clearly responded: Do Not Interfere.

The Treasury House is magnificent. The people inside, not so much. Even after bribing whats-her-name and seeing this Thonar, I get nothing.

That is, until a sudden Forsworn attack happens. After Thonar witnesses his wife, Betrid, killed by Forsworn, he realizes that he doesn't have control on this Manadach as previously believed. I demand answers, and Thonar quickly explains how, during Ulfric's quell, he saw an opportunity. Thonar bargained with Madanach, agreeing to spare his life if he would command his people to attack Thonar's business rivals. Madanach agrees.

I realize that's what happened to Eltrys' father. Thonar Silver-Blood was the one to orchestrate the attack, all so he could carry on with business.

I leave Thonar to his bitterness, and tell Eltrys what I learned. After another nice payment, Eltrys is even more determined.

"We need to know more about the Forsworn now!" He exclaims, and tells me to investigate the murdering miner. I thought he would be done with this espionage after he puts the final piece of his father's death together, but he simply explains what the Warrens are, and says that is probably my best bet.

Although I hate to admit it, I wanted to see this through as well, so I made my way down to squatter's paradise.

It seems gold is the loudest argument here. I give " the Warrens operator", Garvey, a hefty pouch, and he becomes very accommodating. I look in Weylin's room, and find only his orders to end Margaret, signed by N.

Something stuck with me then. I sat on the straw bed and reviewed. This is more than corruption. Some nameless hatred in me swelled to the forefront as I sat in the Warrens. The tipping point for me was seeing Cairine, so lost to despair. Suddenly, I felt angry. Angry at the corruption. Angry at the Silver-Bloods. Angry at the Reach. This is no way for a people to live, Forsworn and nords alike. I need to get to the bottom of this and expose it all. Eltrys' payment for information was secondary here. Having an entire hold of Skyrim covered in these fraudulent practices, no, I won't stand for it.

It seems the gods knew I needed an outlet for frustration, for as soon as I exited the Warrens, a brute called me out.

I narrowly won that brawl, but I suppose being beat by a woman loosened Dryston's tongue, for he told me exactly where I could fine one Nepos the Nose's residence.

He must be the N on Weylin's note. I'd follow this lead and then head back to Eltrys, and together we'd cleanse the Reach of this corruption. First, I needed to know what the Forsworn planned.

Nepos, it turns out, is an old man, tired of secrets. He invites me in, ignoring his staff, and gives full disclosure.

It seems, while Thonar believed Madanach to be beaten, the King in Rags was busy setting up a secret network of Forsworn operatives, hiding in plain sight as reputable citizens of Markarth. Once his agents were in place, he began to direct more open Forsworn attacks. Madanach, Nepos explains, is very convincing, encouraging the downtrodden citizens to kill in the name of the Forsworn. Weylin, for example, was a devout believer, and did well killing Margaret, an Imperial spy.

I was suspicious of the information, but Nepos merely smiled and said,

"you aren't the first to get this far, and you won't be the last."

I had to know, "Why are you telling me this?"

He simply smiled, as though I said something endearing,

"My dear girl, you were seen coming here. There is no way you are getting out of this house alive."

Stupid! I was so stupid! Walked right up to Nepos' house, wearing only my Thieves Guild armor and armed with a teeny little dagger. Now Uaile, Morven, Tynar and Nepos are charging. Part of me wanted to panic, but no-

_Remain centered. Focus. Think. _

I heard Vilkas' words echo from those long ago training sessions. I breathed. In. Out. Then called upon my beast blood.

It's a massacre, the beast inside me thrills in the destruction. It's savage, but short.

I wait until silence reigns, my senses grow dull as I shift back.

Nepos said I wasn't the first the dig this deep, nor the last. I made a promise, on his body, that I will destroy the system.

I must get to Eltrys.

Slinking out of the house, I called upon my Nightingale's alliance to blend with the shadows. As I weaved my way back to the shrine, I loosely stumbled on a plan. Eltrys will book as a corroborating witness. The Silver-Bloods will lose their power if they lose their land and this whole arrangement is exposed. The Reach's history backs the Forsworn claim, but if the Empire gets control of the silver then the nords, with Ulfric, can't have any claim. The Empire and Madanach can reach an arrangement? Eltrys and I need to get to Solitude and speak to General Tullius. He liked my views during the Greybeards' peace conference…

I hope Eltrys is a better planner than what he's shown so far.

I enter the Shrine of Talos, relieved no one has called a chase, but then… I see…

No…

The shrine is full of guards. Eltrys lying dead at their feet. _He was going to be a father…_

Someone is speaking, "Now we have to pin all these recent murders on you. Silence witnesses. Work work work."

I _run._

.

.

Aerin came back to the present and noticed Uraccen was still eargerly awaiting a response. She breathed in slowly, minding the dust.

"I'm innocent."

Uraccen only smirked in response.

.

.

.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

The next chapter will delve into how a nord woman survives Cidhna Mine, what the days are like, some of the other's story… setting up for her to meet Madanach... Oh fun!

For those interested in reading about the Forsworn, I recommend Skyrim's wikipedia page (link in my bio).

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! I hope you have a good day!


	3. Chapter 3: Fitting In

(Disclaimer found in Chapter 1).

A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! I tell you, I am really excited about this chapter! Here we go!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Fitting In<strong>

After a few days, Aerin learned how to adapt. Tying a cloth around her nose and mouth kept her from coughing, but the loose dust still made her eyes sting and water. Eventually she got used to it, learning to squint against the irritation.

Her feet were sore blisters after a bit. She learned how to cut fabric from her tunic and wrap them around the worst of the sores.

And always, there was the mining. Swinging the pickaxe, swinging the pickaxe. The rhythm helped pass the time. The others kept watching her, waiting for her to speak. After her initial conversation with Uraccen, Aerin didn't see much point in talking. She clenched her teeth, and dug up ore.

She was focused on getting to Madanach. He seemed the only one who could answer the questions she had.

The memories, that's what drove her. Remembering how she ended up in this mine, they played in an endless loop.

Her questions, repeated over and over until they were embedded.

_The Forsworn deserve the Reach?_

_The bloodshed is worth it?_

_Is there a right side?_

_What can I do to stay alive?_

Her last question was the easiest to answer.

Aerin kept sharp, she did her time, and she slept light. Her pickaxe was always near, and she found a good spot away from the others, where she would curl up at the end of… well, there weren't really days. She slept when she was exhausted, but her sense of time was now ruled by the pickaxe. Her days began with the sound of Borkul coming out of Madanach's quarters, locking the gate behind him as he started another day of guard.

The sound of the door locking resonated through the caves, but Aerin seemed to be the only one to use it as an alarm.

The others slumped around the fire at the end of their shift.

At lease, she assumed that was all of them.

But when the others were beginning to wake, she had been at the wall for several hours. Her pace was steady and slow. She didn't want to tire herself.

But she listened to the whispers that echoed around the cavern. She learned the names of the others, and she worked.

When the others were still working, she went to bed when Borkul the Beast did; the sound of the door clanging behind him was her time clock. And she rested, and thought.

Aerin was relieved no one was accosting her at every turn. She did know that she was the only female in the mine. The only other one she had seen was the Orc guard who laid down the rules at the beginning of her sentence. Of course, she was sure that everyone knew that she was a Nord as well.

It was only a matter of time before her novelty wore off, and the others would begin to  
>"educate her" on her place in the world.<p>

So she used the grace period to her advantage.

When Borkul clanged the gate shut, Aerin was up. She didn't sleep as much as meditate. Those scant hours of down time she had were used to keep her mind sharp. She would breathe deep, and, in her little corner of the cave, she would do small stretches. Her back, her legs, her arms, her neck… she stayed limber, intending to stay as fit as possible. One thing she could say for the mines, the work was very physically demanding.

She thought about the different shouts she knew; but intended for her magic to be her trump card. There was no need to advertise her status as Arch Mage and Dragonborn. She had enough enemies already… like the guards.

After her first week, Aerin experienced the guards treatment firsthand.

She awoke, not from the sound of a cell door clanging, but from the sound of armored boots on the ground. She moved quickly to the center cavern. There seemed to be everyone gathered there, looking at the entrance gate.

Even though she stood a distance from the central group, she shared their unease. As one, their eyes flicked to the pile of ore and amethysts that was dumped at the bottom of the wood ramp. It seemed big when she was contributing to the pile over the past week, but now…

The Markarth city commander strode into the cavern, his gait was surefooted and arrogant. He was followed by a score of guards, all with swords drawn.

As the commander reached the pile, the prisoners stared at him, waiting for his judgment.

Aerin noticed how the commanders' lip curled as he caught her eye, she glared at him, remembering his cocky demeanor from… before…

The commander then inspected the ore pile. He strode around it, seeing how the mound reached to his hip. Seeming to come to a decision, he turned toward his retinue; the city guards who surrounded him, their weapons aimed at the prisoners. The commander nodded, and one of the guards peeled off and ran up to the gate.

The prisoners listened to his steps fade away, then return, along with the creaky sounds of… wheels!

Aerin was exulted, but didn't want to show her delight. Even though she meditated every night, and was careful not to think about her hunger, her famine pains now renewed itself with vigor.

She almost prevented herself from expressing, but, noticing how the other prisoners shared the same longing look, decided that she had been strong enough, and allowed herself to _feel_.

Joy, hunger, suspicion…

Still, the Markarth guards are crafty. Best not get ones hopes up…

But, there was the guard, pushing a cart heaped with scraps of meat and stale bread. The smell of old blood wafted towards her.

The retinue moved aside so the cart could be pivoted. The guard then dumped the cart's contents on the ground.

Still, not one prisoner moved.

Aerin noticed just how well trained the prisoners were, but, as she caught the glint in one's eye, she realized that she was among fighters, who knew the cost of unplanned attack. For the first time, she allowed herself to respect the others for surviving.

The commander nodded again, and a few guards began piling the ore onto the cart.

Their system was smooth and efficient. While the heap of ore was high, it was quickly dwindling.

Aerin almost missed something while thinking about food; the commander himself turned to a guard, and took a sack of something from their hands. She then watched as the commander strode across the cavern. Borkul had already opened the gate; the commander didn't even break stride as he disappeared into the tunnel.

_Madanach_…

The commander was not gone long. The echoes of the guards' work was slowing as he returned. He walked up to the workers, and stood in front of the mass. His hand was casually laid on the hilt of his sword, and his cocky demeanor was reflected in his address,

"I see you are all accounted for. But you seem to have forgotten your manners."

Aerin was focused on him, so did not notice the guard behind her until she was grasped on the shoulders and propelled forward. Being frog marched to the center of the group, she focused her eyes on the commander.

He smirked, "Please, make her feel welcome. This traitor deserves some special treatment."

* * *

><p>Oh don't worry. Well, worry a bit, but I mean, I already have the next part drafted. I promise to make a timely update!<p>

Please let me know what you think!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a lovely day!

CrSa


End file.
